Page 16 of Savage Desire (The Savage Six #2)

16

POLARIS

H e runs his tongue over his teeth, eyeing the wolf raging before him like it’s merely an inconvenience, but the way his muscles bunch at his neck gives away the flash of uncertainty.

It’s almost poetic, laughable, insane, but it makes him real.

He’s also an asshole. The biggest one I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, but beneath the facade there is a level of humanity that remains. Even if it’s hidden way, way down deep. My eyebrows gather, confusion clouding my vision for a second as I shake those thoughts off. That’s definitely not what I think of Blaze. Wherever that ideology came from, it can go right back there.

“It’s time you faced me like a man, Blaze, and there’s no time like the present. Don’t you think?” Declan snarls, knuckles whitening as he takes a slow, measured step to the right.

It’s instinctive to expect Blaze to start moving too, but to my surprise, he remains rooted to the spot.

Two lunatics facing off with each other. How fun.

“What am I facing you for?” Blaze grunts, the gathering of vampires growing behind him standing in silent solidarity while my stare swings back and forth between the vampire and the wolf.

Seeing Blaze’s support makes my back stiffen as a thought comes to mind, and I peer around the gathered students, searching for those you would also expect to stand behind their own: the wolves.

As if sensing my intrigue, the sea of students parts as four men storm toward the stand off taking place center stage.

I gulp, my body reacting to their presence as their swagger thickens in the air.

Damn.

My jaw falls slack, eyes raking over them from head to toe, as I hope like hell that actual drool doesn’t start trailing down my chin.

Lincoln leads the pack, a thunderous look on his face as he prowls across the lawn. Wylder is a step behind him, his deathly glare visible over Lincoln’s head as he towers over everyone. Asher and Tatum bring up the rear, side by side, and the sheer power and anger that vibrates from them is overwhelming.

Gone is the quiet man that I always find hidden within the maze, and in his place is a savage beast. His jaw ticks, fists tight at his sides as his nostrils flare in anger. Beside him is the man I’m used to seeing with his face buried in his cell phone, yet he is more than present now. He stretches his neck from side to side as they pass me, but his gaze is set on the scene unraveling in the center of the growing crowd. The scene that’s paused at the arrival of the four men I’ve been trying to forget and avoid.

It’s impossible with a presence like that.

“Holy fuck, Polaris. They’re furious,” Bryony whispers, drawing my attention to her, but she’s not looking at me, she’s sweeping her stare over the crowd. I can only assume she’s looking for Minnie, but I don’t see her.

“It’s going to start a war if they go after the vampires like this,” I breathe, panic taking root in my gut when Bryony finally turns my way.

“What?” She shakes her head. “No, they’re not mad at the vampires. They’re mad at him .” Her finger aims in the direction of Declan, and as I follow her line of sight, I find the four of them coming to a stop at the edge of the circle, eyes set on the wolf in question.

“Enough, Declan.” Lincoln’s voice booms through the air, cutting every mumbled conversation to a halt as he captures everyone’s attention.

The wolf blinks at his alpha, a shift of something twinkling in his eyes, but it’s not there long. Another fall of his lashes, and when he opens them again, all that shimmers in his brown eyes is anger.

“He has to pay.”

Wylder shakes his head, taking a step toward the enraged wolf, but Declan lifts his hand and Wylder halts in his tracks.

My heartbeat thunders in my ears as I watch them, the air thickening with rage when a snicker cuts through the space.

“Why don’t you be a good little pup and follow your master’s orders, huh?” Blaze grunts, rolling his shoulders back as he sneers at Declan, and it’s not surprising when that same look transfers to the four wolves trying to diffuse the situation. “Get this fucking wolf out of my way before I do something we’ll all regret,” he snaps, sending a chill of panic down my spine.

He doesn’t mean what I think he means, does he?

Not even he’s that cruel… right?

“Fuck this,” Declan snarls, teeth bared as he snaps in Blaze’s direction.

Gasps ring around the space as his shoulder connects with Blaze’s middle, the pair of them tumbling to the ground.

Bryony’s hand wraps around my wrist as I gape with wide eyes at the chaos before me.

“Wylder,” Lincoln mutters, the order clear in his tone, and a moment later, the beast of a man trudges toward the two rolling around on the grass with their fists swinging and their fury palpable.

I’m drawn to the chaos, taking a step closer, and although Bryony’s hold on me tightens, she follows me. We’re not the only ones moving, though. The group is gathering closer, all desperate for a look at the brawl in the center.

Rising up on my tiptoes, I catch sight of Wylder as he bends forward, attempting to get between the two of them, but a fist comes his way, smashing into the side of his face with a speed I’ve never seen before.

“Keep the fuck out of this, Aires. If he wants to come at me like a big man, he can face me like one too,” Blaze snaps, shifting with Declan so he’s towering over him. His hair is ruffled, grass stains on his cheek, but the usually well-kept and pompous ass doesn’t seem to care as he sneers at the wolf beneath him.

I don’t know where to look.

It’s instinctive to draw closer to Wylder, desperate to make sure he’s okay, but there’s an icy chill clinging to my spine that has me completely focused on survival. Something’s wrong, I can feel it in the air. Like the impending doom of something bad.

It’s coming.

It’s inevitable.

Shaking Bryony’s hand from my wrist, I press my fingers onto my temples, struggling with the grimoire in my grasp, but the tension crowding my mind is unbearable. My feet carry me closer, despite the instinct to run for the hills, but the pain in my head makes it impossible for me to hear a word being said. They’re being spoken, though. I can see lips moving.

Blaze. Declan. Wylder. Lincoln.

They’re all talking, snarling, but the noise is little more than a muffled screech in my mind.

I can’t breathe.

What the fuck is going on with me?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I will the pain to leave, but if anything, it grows stronger.

Fuck.

I drop to my knees, my vision blurring for a second as I shake my head, but it only leaves me more disoriented. The grimoire slips from my hands, but it’s the least of my worries as I let my head fall into my hands, my fingertips digging into my scalp with a desperation I’ve never experienced before.

A hand lands on my shoulder, but I can’t bear it. I shake my head, my mouth parting as I think of words, hoping they come out, but I can’t be sure. Thankfully, they remove their hand, but relief is nowhere to be found.

Snarling, I force my eyes open, letting my hands fall to the grass as I spy Declan and Blaze still fighting. The sight burns my brain, an overwhelming sense of fear running through my veins.

“No,” I breathe, or think, I’m not sure, but in the next breath, Blaze pauses, his eyes darting to me. His eyebrows gather, confusion morphing his face, and Declan uses the pause to his advantage, swinging his fist at Blaze’s face.

I cringe at the contact, the burning sensation in my mind all-consuming as I press my hands deeper into the blades of grass, but I can’t even feel it. It’s as if I’m floating, suspended in the air, stretched and ruined all at once.

I can’t feel anything, I can’t smell anything, I can’t see anything.

All I know for certain is one thing, and it’s so overwhelming, it’s almost as if it’s my thought, my feeling transpiring inside of me, it’s so strong.

He’s going to kill him—Declan—he’s going to kill again. It’s as if I can feel the promise in his veins, the desperation in his heart, and the feral rage as if it’s my own.

I don’t care much for Blaze, but it wouldn’t be just Blaze… it would be another too.

Anyone here.

Me.

Facing death because of an uncontrollable wolf with a grudge no one seems to understand.

I try to take a deep breath, but it’s futile. Instead, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, enough to taste the bite of copper on my tongue, and my eyelids pry open.

Blaze is flat on his back, Declan above him, slamming punch after punch into his face as Wylder tries to pull him off. I hiss as I force myself to my feet, swaying with the breeze as I almost trip over the grimoire, but there’s no time to worry about that. I need to stop this.

“Polaris, no.”

My head rolls as I turn, feeling completely disconnected from my body as I find Asher towering over me. Concern is etched into his features as he grabs my shoulders, but I shake my head, desperation using me as a vessel as I sway, black spots dancing in my vision.

“You have to stop them.” It’s a plea on my tongue, one that makes Asher’s brows pull even tighter together.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he murmurs, and my fingers coil into his t-shirt, a sudden strength filling my body as I freeze, meeting his stare.

“He’s going to kill him. Make it stop or I have to,” I gasp, my hold going limp as my breath falls in short, sharp bursts.

He blinks at me.

Once.

Twice.

I don’t know what I’m doing or saying because I sure as hell can’t make them stop if Wylder can’t, but I know in my soul I’ll jump into the chaos if someone else doesn’t first.

“Polaris,” Tatum breathes, appearing at Asher’s side, and I feel a single tear trickle down my cheek, the emotion coming from somewhere deep. His lips part, but no words come out when an almighty snarl ripples through the air, finished with a ripple of gasps taking over the gathered students.

I turn, even more sluggish with Asher’s hands still on me, and watch in horror as Blaze kicks Declan off him, the wolf sailing through the air with a whoosh, landing a few feet away from me, a tangle of limbs as he lies still.

I breathe in, the air thick in my lungs, but it suddenly seems more possible.

One.

Two.

Three.

The pain is gone, the disorientation barely lingering as I stare, jaw slack at the wolf that still remains unmoving.

I push at Asher’s chest, heart thundering in my ribcage as he releases me, and I spin toward Declan. His neck looks… weird.

Dropping to my knees, a sob parts my lips. I don’t know why, but the emotional rollercoaster leaves me wrung dry, the fact made even worse by what lies before me.

I can’t say it, but I know it.

Reaching a hand in his direction, I have no idea what I’m searching for, but the need to feel something is undeniable. Just as my hand hovers over his neck, where I know his pulse will be flat, a scream bites through the air.

Fuck.

My hand falls back at my side, a defeated weight heavy on my shoulders as the cry spreads through the crowd.

He’s dead, and so is another.

“Students, I can’t begin to express the heartbreak I feel. The disappointment that we’re having to take another moment to mourn a loss before their time is overwhelming. I feel it is my duty at this time to be open and honest with all present. Declan Powers was… troubled. We came to this assessment after he was identified as the student who killed another, resulting in an innocent death.”

Veronica, I think, but he doesn’t say it.

I hate that he doesn’t say her name.

“Unfortunately, as we were preparing to transfer him off property, he managed to slip through the security we had in place. This fault lies with me, I have to take ownership of that, but I must also explain the fact that a need for additional security has never been necessary before. I wasn’t prepared for that, and I shall forever be sorry that I could have done more in the moment that defined the events that followed.”

Professor Whitmore drops his head and I tilt mine, staring at him. He actually seems… genuine. Like he’s truly sorry. Hmm. Either that or he’s a good actor.

“A vendetta against the vampires was clear, and unfortunately today, his target was another. One who I believe acted in self defense when the fateful act took place.”

Murmurs scatter over the room but no one denies his claim.

I don’t know how I feel. I don’t feel anything but numb. Right down to my soul.

Another death caused by someone else’s actions. Maybe it was safer at Florentine’s.

“With that in mind, once the student in question has been seen by the medical team, they will be free to return to classes as usual. I have made arrangements for anyone that may need aid to have a counsellor to speak with. This is available at all times, and I urge any who may need it to seek it openly. There is no shame in needing support in times such as this,” Whitmore explains, and I can’t help but scoff.

We’re all here to die, a fact I’m struggling to come to terms with, but as much as it causes me a great deal of pain to witness someone die before their time, I don’t see myself expressing that out loud to a stranger. Especially not a counsellor.

What is that going to achieve?

Nothing.

“Classes are finished for the rest of the day. Please, take the time to find a sense of peace. The innocent life lost today was a witch.” My ears perk up at that, the horror swirling deep in my soul darkening as I stare at him with wide eyes, desperate to know who. “The Renegades will be holding a ritual in honor of their center this evening. Lucille Cummings will be surely missed.” With a nod, he leaves the stage while my heart races in disbelief.

Lucille as in… the witch of my nightmares? The one who held me against my will, trying to pry information from me that wasn’t hers to take?

Damn.

I wouldn’t wish death upon her either.

My gaze darts over the crowd as I seek out Bryony, but in my blindness I realize she’s not even here. Damn. I hope she’s okay.

The rest of the hall begins to disperse while I remain locked in place, unsure what to do. Should I go and find Bryony and make sure she’s okay, or should I avoid The Renegades as a whole right now?

Torn, I swipe a hand down my face, and when I lean back with a sigh, I find a familiar wolf standing dominantly above me.

“Asher?” I breathe, acutely aware of the few students around us watching as a wolf lingers in the witches’ area of the hall.

“Let’s go, Polaris,” he breathes, offering me his hand. I frown at it, waiting for what, I don’t know, but he doesn’t move, revealing his patience as time stretches out between us before I succumb to his offer and place my hand in his.

He gently tugs me to my feet before releasing my hand and placing his palm against the flat of my back, edging me toward the door. I follow the silent direction, my grimoire pressed against my chest as I silently thank whoever placed it back in my possession amidst the madness that was consuming me outside.

I expect to see his friends, but as he directs me outside and down the walkway that leads to the onyx witches’ building, I realize it’s just the two of us. He doesn’t speak, a fact I’m silently grateful for since I’m running short on words right now.

It’s only when I trudge over the sand path that leads directly to the witches’ dorms, that I realize what I’m actually doing, where I’m actually going.

Rearing to a stop, I offer him a tight smile. “I don't know if I can be here right now,” I admit, and he nods, no smile in return.

“Unfortunately, Silver, it’s the safest place for you until we’re finished,” he states, and I frown.

“Finished with what?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“I need you to stay here until we're done sorting a few things out. But until then, I don’t think you should be exposed. I’m worried about your safety after today’s chaos,” he states, making my frown grow deeper.

“You’re not making any sense,” I breathe as he presses his palm against my back, more urgently this time, and despite my weariness, I open the door. As I turn to him, he continues inside, leading me up the stairs and down the hall until we’re standing directly outside of my room.

“I don’t think anything makes any sense today, but here we are. I need you to stay in there, and one of us will come and get you when we think it’s safe to do so.”

I blink at him, irritation rippling through me as I shake my head. “I can do what I want,” I declare, and the curl of his lips is almost amusement, but the heaviness of the situation washes it away quickly.

“Please, Silver. For me,” he breathes, and my eyebrows furrow. Before I can register this sudden nickname from him or the fact that he thinks he can convince me to do something because it’s for him , he twists my door handle and swings it open, nudging me inside and closing it in one swift move.

It’s only when I hear his footsteps retreat that I realize I’ve never shown Asher or any of the others which room is specifically mine, yet between him and Tatum, they’ve infiltrated my personal space without care.

It’s about more than being safe. I have to be vigilant.